“I must write it all out, at any cost. Writing is thinking. It is more than living, for it is being conscious of living.” Anne Morrow Lindbergh
This quote reached out and grabbed me by the heart when I saw it on the page of fb friend Carol Woodliff, since it speaks profoundly about the intense passion I have for writing. I know that I was born to be a writer and in previous incarnations, have been one, since it comes so easily and freely. I almost never have writer’s block and find that anything I experience can be grist for the mill and often is. Even in the midst of the most enjoyable moments, I toggle back and forth between mindful immersion in it and contemplating how I will communicate it later on, eager to get to my computer to share it. Even in anticipation of an event, I do that. Does that seem weird?
Last year, in a reading with psychic Corbie Mitleid, she told me “Your relationship will be with your Muse.” At the time, I didn’t think to get clarity with her about what that meant. Was she indicating that my partner would also be my inspiration for my creative flow or was she saying that the Muse itself would become lover/partner? Both would be just fine and dandy with me(: There are times when it is heart and soul satisfying to sit in silence and then allow the words to flow, unimpeded, opening to the sprinkles that intensify to torrents. Grateful to be drenched in descriptions.
In recent years, I have opened myself to be what I call “God’s Typist” to whom ideas are dictated. There was a time when I would have thought that description grandiose, but now I know it is accurate. We are all hollow reeds through which celestial music can be played if we allow for it. Writing also one of my healthy addictions and that which keeps me sane and vertical at times. I am grateful to have been tapped.
There are some days when I would imagine writing for 12 hours straight, taking time for potty breaks and a wee bit of food, but otherwise immersed in my craft. At the moment, I am listening to my favorite radio station (WXPN 88.5 in Philadelphia), on Saturday morning of Memorial Day Weekend, letting my fingers dance across the keyboard, Pat Metheney instrumental version of the Norah Jones made famous composition (written by Jesse Harris) “Don’t Know Why” wafting across the airwaves. The dryer is doing its job across the hall, Nag Champa incense lightly billowing through the air. Just had cereal with all kinds of colorful berries…straw/rasp/blue and am sipping Rooibos tea…enjoying the multi-sensory experience. Anticipating a hotter than normal late Spring that feels like mid Summer day with a wide open schedule into which I will sprinkle a playout at the gym, cleaning, time with friends and of course….writing.
Wishing you all wondrous worlds of words.